


Lodge of Lies

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fantasy Politics, Forbidden Love, Group Sex, Homoeroticism, Lesbian Sex, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Redania, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/F/F, lore heavy, mix of books-games-show, palace politics, relatable new character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Countless innocent sorceresses were caught in fire during the Thanedd Coup. Sylvia of Oxenfurt was one of them, except, due to her affiliation with Yennefer of Vengerberg, Sylvia's life was saved by Philippa Eilhart, who took her to the Redanian capital Tretogor. There, she was introduced to Radovid V, the young King of Radenia. Could she be the reason why the King grew so hateful towards all wielders of magic?"Lodge of Lies" is a multi-chapter, immersive work that merges the books and the games. The timeline starts a few months after the Thanedd but the flashbacks will go as early as the first years of Geralt and Yennefer. The main themes in the work are palace politics, forbidden love, lodge-politics, and romance/competition/hatred between sorceresses. The story is lore-heavy but reminders will be provided at the beginning of each chapter.“You must be able to enchant without casting spells, to protect yourselves and your interests." Yennefer said to the young pupils. "Men are weak, yet they are in power. Sorceresses disrupt that unfortunate fact by being almost otherworldly with their perfection."
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers and content warnings will be provided at the beginning of the chapters when relevant. Skip those if you don't want spoilers. Other than that, all feedback is greatly appreciated!

Content Warning: Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM

Lore Reminders:

  * [Philippa Eilhart](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Philippa_Eilhart): A Redanian sorceress famed for her ambition, cruelty, and intelligence. She is the head advisor to Queen-Mother Hedwig of Redania and her young son, King Radovid V. 
  * [Cynthia](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Cynthia): Philippa's apprentice. At the end of The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings, it is revealed that she is a Nilfgaardian spy.
  * [Radovid V](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Radovid_V) (The Stern): Radovid became king after his father was assassinated. The first years of his reign were dominated by his mother Hedwig and sorceress Philippa Eilhart. Just like the game series, he is also aged up in this work.
  * [Isle of Thanedd & Thanedd coup:](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Thanedd_coup) The island on which Aretuza, the "sorceress-academy" is placed. During the chapter meeting there, an attack by both Radenians and Nilfgaardians occurred, causing great chaos and countless deaths. There Ciri escaped by jumping inside Tor Lara and Geralt was wounded by sorcerer Vilgefortz. Yennefer was saved by Francesca Findabair, who turned her into a figurine to hide her.
  * [Tretogor](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Tretogor): Capital of Radenia.
  * [Zerrikania](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Zerrikania) & [Ofir](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Ofir): Distant, "exotic" lands. 



**CHAPTER 1: WITCHES OF A CASTLE**

“Sylvia, are you coming? We are going to be late”

Cynthia’s voice hit the young sorceress like wind and Sylvia found herself rising on her feet absentmindedly. They still had at least an hour before sundown but neither of them would dare to be late, as that would mean disappointing Madame Philippa. It was rare enough that the master sorceress allowed her apprentices to roam on their own so failure to obey her rules could cause them to lose that privilege.

“You’re right” Sylvia replied and patted the skirts of her dress to get rid of the dirt. It was futile. The fabric needed to be washed.

“You shouldn’t have sat on the grass like that.” Cynthia criticized though Sylvia knew she was looking out for her. Two of them had been through a lot in the last year they had spent in the royal palace in Tretegor, quickly learning that looking out for each other often was the best option. When Madame Philippa was upset with one of the girls, she would almost always punish both.

“I will change into something clean before Madame Philippa sees us.” Sylvia replied, starting to walk alongside her fellow apprentice. Cynthia did not reply to her, but it was obvious from the way she breathed that she was not happy with the situation. That confused Sylvia since they still had quite a bit of time until their curfew.

Two of them walked through fields that were covered by soft-looking wheat and made their way through a district famous for its merchants. All sorts of smells reached their nostrils, including spices from Zerrikania and horses from Ofir. Even though they were strictly instructed to avoid that, Sylvia could not help but stare one of the traveling merchants who seemed to be cuddling a large snake.

Like many sorceresses, she also had physical traits distorted due to the infusion of magic and the merchant seemed to notice the pair of yellow eyes looking at him immediately. Grinning, he waved at Sylvia, and the young sorceress panicked, immediately putting the hood of her cape up and fastening her steps. The man seemed strange, filling her with a feeling she could not explain. He seemed to be selling mirrors, then why was he holding a snake?

“Remind me why we’re walking through the market?” she complained to Cynthia, who seemed to be leading them towards a direction they had never taken before.

“I need to meet someone”

“A boy?”

Cynthia did not respond, and Sylvia did not ask again. Regardless of who it was, meeting outsiders was not allowed. But she would cover for her friend, without requiring a conversation about it.

She sat on a large piece of rock from a broken garden fence, while Cynthia had entered a two-story townhouse. Now she could understand why her friend was so worried about being late because she had calculated to make a stop in the town. Sylvia did not mind too much. The sun was still up enough to warm her, and she felt that her aching bones needed it. After all, even though multiple sorceresses and healers had worked on her body, she still carried the signs of what had happened on Thanedd.

Right on the four spots she was stabbed on.

Remembering what had happened a year ago immediately caused her breathing to get irregular and she had to close her eyes to avoid spiraling into panic. However, that only made it easier for images to appear on her mind. She could hear the screams of people she knew, and she could not only smell but taste the blood.

_“Sylvia, get up. Are you alright?”_

_“Madame Merigold? What is going on? I-“_

_“Listen to me, you need to find Yennefer. Do you understand? You need to find Yennefer!”_

_It was confusing, that she needed to find her old mistress, the sorceress she had served on a journey some years ago. The sorceress who walked on earth like she owned it. The sorceress who’d made love to a witcher in a rundown inn room while Sylvia had fed the horses nearby._

_“Madame Yennefer? But why?”_

_Triss Merigold looked frustrated. “There is no time. I must go help Geralt. You need to find Yennefer and get Ciri out of here.”_

_“Cirilla is here?” she asked but there was no reply. Instead, Triss patted her on the shoulder before running towards the tower. Sylvia wasted a couple of seconds looking after her in disbelief. Why would anyone run towards where the elves had just regrouped?_

_Still, she was too scared to think of anything else other than the instructions Triss had given her. Except, the raven-haired sorceress was nowhere to be found, especially with so many corpses and fighters around._

_She was unable to find Yennefer but from a distance, she managed to spot the young girl with ashen hair, whom she hadn’t seen in years. “Ciri?” Sylvia mumbled and coughed some blood, only to notice the person chasing her. Vilgefortz? What was that lunatic doing behind Ciri? And right behind them…_

_“Elves” Sylvia murmured again, watching in disbelief the scene before her, Ciri running for her dear life towards the tower with Vilgefortz on her trail, while a group of Elves were crossing the bridge._

_“Shit” the young sorceress tried to stand on her feet, but the blood loss was getting to her. She could never make it to Ciri, that part was obvious. Fear covered her entire body, paralyzing her muscles. Was she dying? No, she couldn’t, it couldn’t be real._

_Perhaps with more focus, she could have found a way to get herself out but at that moment, she felt like it was too late for her. But Ciri could still make it. She raised her hands and focused the rest of her willpower on the bridge and muttered a spell. Dark blue sparks left her fingers and landed on the bridge, destroying it on impact._

_The elves wouldn’t be able to make it Ciri. She smiled. The ashen-haired girl entered the tower at the very same moment two daggers entered Sylvia’s body. She could only hear screams and cries as the world went dark._

_Next time she’d open her eyes, it would be a week later and many miles away in Tretegor, to a very displeased Philippa Eilhart._

“Sylvia! Are you all alright?

“Huh?” she looked up, seeing Cynthia stare with a worried look.

“I’ve called your name five times. Are you alright?”

“I am” light-brown haired sorceress replied and stood up. “Are you done here?”

“Yes. This is between us, right?”

“Of course.” she smiled at Cynthia. Sorceresses were famed for romantic freedom but that was not the case when your mistress was Philippa Eilhart. She would keep her secret.

“Thank you. Come on, we need to hurry back to the palace now.”

* * *

The brunette’s hands were tied to the iron bars of the bed rail by an old rag, but her legs roamed free. She was on her knees on the bed, leaning forward with her naked bottom-up as Philippa Eilhart paced around the bed, nervously.

“Are you sure he did not talk to you about anything?” she asked the brunette, who responded with an impatient sigh.

“Philippa, can it not wait? I’m not ass-up waiting on this bed to talk about the boy.”

“No, it cannot wait. The person you call a _boy_ is the king of Redania. I did not send you to his bedroom just to suck his cock, Swenja. You were supposed to gain his trust.”

“I’m a spy, Philippa. Not a common whore. I know what I’m doing. And I’m telling, your _boy_ has no interest in opening his heart to a courtesan. Perhaps you should have introduced me to him as a noble’s daughter, rather than sending me to him as a gift.” Swenja replied, with a hint of resentment in her voice that caused Philippa to give up.

“So what? You went in there, rode his royal cock, and left?”

“Precisely.”

“Three damn times!?”

“Four actually.” Swenja shrugged as much as she could do with the bondage. “He also requested me last night.”

Philippa grunted. “How did you manage to fail? He is sixteen years old, it can’t be that hard to lure him with sex.”

“You said it yourself.” the spy replied nonchalantly. “He is a king. A very brooding and angsty one in fact.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you failed.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Swenja licked her lips. “Am I going to get punished for it, Madame Owl?”

A shudder quickly traveled through Philippa’s body, reacting to Swenja’s overly sweet, teasing voice. With lazy steps, she made her way to the dresser, on which she had placed a small brush made up of soft, intricate feathers.

She sat behind Swenja on the bed and quietly watched the woman’s curves. She had long brown hair reaching to her waist, but it was now tied up. There were many scars on her pale body that traveled from her left shoulder down to her hips. The sorceress liked them.

Philippa placed her hand on the woman’s bottom, letting her nails dug deeper before she slid her hand down, until she reached Swenja’s entrance. And the spy moaned.

“You need to do better.” Philippa said with a dry voice as she separated Swenja’s folds and slid one finger inside her. The brunette immediately moaned, and Philippa’s eyes wandered to her firm breasts.

“I need to do better, yes.”

“This is serious.” Philippa said scoldingly and pulled her hand back.

“I am taking this very seriously. I will gain the King’s trust, I promise you.”

Slowly, the sorceress reached for the feather and played with its intricate details before starting to move it down Swenja’s back, eventually reaching her bottom and her entrance. The woman squirmed as the feather made the smallest of impacts on her skin, leaving her wanting more in a desperate way.

With no remorse on her face, Philippa moved the feather on Swenja’s folds and eventually stopped as the spy’s swollen pleasure button revealed itself. Then the sorceress grinned menacingly. She twirled the feather around Swenja’s sweet spot, making sure to cause pleasure rise inside the woman but denying her the release of a climax.

She could feel it in her soul every time Swenja came to the edge of her climax and that exact moment, the sorceress pulled the feather back, causing the woman to cry out in need. Minutes passed one after the other, but she wouldn’t grant Swenja what she wanted. It was a game Philippa had played many times, yet it was still always fun. There was simply something wonderful about being in control of the thing her partner wanted the most at the moment.

“Philippa, please!” Swenja started to beg, a single tear falling on her cheek. The vision caused Philippa to shudder in pleasure.

“You want to finish that bad, Swenja?” she asked calmly.

“Yes. For real, Philippa. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll learn everything Radovid thinks. You’ll know everything. Please, just a few more strokes and I-“

Both of them recoiled when a hesitant hand knocked on the door. Philippa jumped up on her feet and yelled, her voice shrieking with anger. “If you care about your life you will walk away from that door and never come back!”

“Madame Eilhart?” a servant’s scared voice replied. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. You need to come to the Western guest room immediately.”

“I don’t need to do anything!” Philippa yelled in fury. Swenja squirmed on the bed, more tears following. Her climax was ruined by the interruption. The tingling feeling inside her and the pulsating pain on her crotch made it impossible to calm down.

“It’s… It’s Madame Merigold.” The servant added, her voice cracking with fear. “She said to fetch you immediately. Says it’s most urgent. I’m so sorry.”

Philippa closed her eyes to calm down. “I’ll be there immediately. Now, get lost.”

She opened her eyes and looked at the poor creature on the bed. She had planned to ruin Swanja’s orgasm herself, but she found it unacceptable that it had happened out of her control.

Luckily, pleasure often happened in one’s mind. And also luckily, Philippa was one of the most talented illusionists ever lived.

The sorceress covered her thin gown with a thick cape and stood in front of the mirror to fix her braids, while the spy kept twitching on the bed. After that, Philippa raised her slender hand slightly and muttered a spell before blowing a kiss to Swanja. A few seconds later, Swanja squirmed on the bed, pressed her legs together, and screamed in pleasure, unable to understand how she had climaxed.

* * *

“Triss, you look like you’ve seen the ghost of your grandmother. What is going on?”

Triss Merigold was sitting on the bench and looking down at the wooden table where Sylvia had brought her something to eat, though she had no intention to touch the food. Cynthia stood nearby, fanning Triss on the face. The sorceress with chestnut hair looked pale and there were purple circles under her eyes, signaling that she’d been crying.

“I sent you to keep an eye of Yennefer and Cirilla, Triss. What the hell has happened?”

Triss raised her head and looked at Philippa, her eyes harbouring nothing but pure grief. “They’re gone.”

Sylvia gasped.

“What!?”

“They’re gone, Philippa!” Triss yelled. “There was a massacre against non-humans. Geralt tried to stop them. They stabbed him with a damned pitchfork! By the time we arrived… I knew it was too late but…”

“But what? Speak, woman!”

“But Yennefer wouldn’t listen.” Tears traveled down Triss’ cheeks. “She tried to save him. She used everything she had. All the spells she could think of. Dangerous spells, forbidden spells… It wouldn’t work. Nothing would work!”

“Then what happened?”

“What do you think, Philippa!? They died! Both of them!”

Philippa’s eyebrow raised but she remained calm. “Yennefer was a powerful sorceress and an intelligent woman. She has betrayed the Lodge once but redeemed herself when she brought Cirillia back to us. She will be mourned properly, with a small but tasteful ceremony. Stop crying Triss, it makes you look ugly.”

She raised her head from Triss to ask a handkerchief from her apprentices. However, Sylvia was crying with her head rested on the large marble column and Cynthia just seemed too shocked. Sighing at what she considered an exaggeration, she picked up the pitcher of wine nearby and hoped that would calm Triss.

“Where is Cirilla, Triss? Did you bring her here? Nobody can know who she is, but we can still allow her to attend the ceremonial funeral.”

Triss didn’t reply.

“Triss? I’m talking to you! Where is Cirilla?”

Triss raised her head but there were no tears left. “She is gone too.”

“What!?” the pitcher left Philippa’s hand and shattered to pieces upon impact.

“She took Yen and Geralt’s bodies and disappeared. I don’t know where she is, but Ciri isn’t coming back, Philippa.”

* * *

_Sylvia, created by Djarn's image-maker:<https://imgur.com/a/f4XRo7t>_


	2. Effigies in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvia talks to King Radovid of Redania for the first time. He has questions about a certain ashen haired girl and her guardians Yennefer and Geralt.

When 3 bolts of pure energy left Philippa’s fingers and made their way to the young sorceresses, neither Sylvia nor Cynthia panicked. They’ve been trained for this and more importantly, Philippa’s attack was predictable. They gave each other a glance before extending their hands towards their mistress and they shouted an incantation at the same time. Before the bolts would reach them, an almost invisible ward appeared in front of them. When the bolts hit the ward, they shattered. Cynthia gave Sylvia a small smirk but none of them let their guard down. It would be stupid to assume Philippa wouldn’t send the fourth bolt on them.

So, what ruined their performance was the fifth one. After they successfully stopped the fourth one, they felt victorious and lowered their hands. The ward disappeared immediately, leaving them vulnerable. That was what Philippa was waiting for. _Always expect the unexpected_ the sorceress would often cryptically say to her apprentices and it seemed like they had forgotten the lesson. They only noticed the bolt when it was too late to stop it. Sylvia tried to dodge by jumping aside but ended up rolling on the grass. Cynthia attempted to cast another ward but didn’t have the time for it. The bolt pushed her like she had the weight of a feather and she stopped only when her back hit an old barrel. When both sorceresses were on the ground, Philippa cast one last spell, which set a small ball of fire towards the pile of hay that was shaped like an adult human. Within seconds, it was burnt down.

“Never think you can completely predict your opponent” Philippa scolded, her disappointment dripping from the words. “It is impossible for humans to know each other completely. Even the people closest to you can surprise you. Always be on your guard. I am disappointed in both you.”

Sylvia stood up much easier than Cynthia did and tried to get the dust off her breeches by patting. She wasn’t allowed to wear anything other than dresses and the breeches were the only thing she owned that she actually liked, so seeing the small hole on where she’d fallen upset her. Though looking at Cynthia, she realized she was in a much better position. The blonde sorceress’ breeches looked like rags and she would clearly have bruises later.

“Is that miserable burnt thing supposed to be me, Madame Eilhart?”

The King’s voice came from the back and surely was unexpected. Except for Philippa, everyone on the courtyard bowed, including Sylvia and Cynthia. Being the apprentices of the court mage meant regularly stumbling upon the King but no direct interaction had ever happened. Radovid wasn’t talkative and he certainly wasn’t friendly. Sylvia had observed that plenty of nobles and high-ranking government officials often got talkative and cheerful around their favorite colleagues, but the young king was different. Sylvia wasn’t even sure if he was physically capable of smiling.

“Just an effigy” Philippa replied, not bothering to decorate her words with niceties. The inhabitants of the palace were used to seeing the sorceress treat the King like a child, but Sylvia cringed internally. “It is the only version of you that I thought I would trust my apprentices with at this moment. But I was certainly wrong with that” she added, grimacing at Cynthia and Sylvia. Two of them were most definitely not presentable enough to be within the King’s eyesight.

“I can see that” Radovid replied, his eyes lingering over the smoke coming out of the effigy-king.

“How can we help you…” Philippa asked but then added the customary title, “… Your Majesty?”

Radovid didn’t sound pleased. Philippa Eilhart had been the court mage for ages and additionally had been his mother’s top advisor and confidante, as well as being a heavy influence on the regency council. The crown could be on Radovid’s head, but the scepter was surely in Philippa’s slender hand.

“I’m here to talk to your apprentice. The one you brought from Thanedd.”

Sylvia almost gasped and raised her head, establishing direct eye contact with the King for a second. She immediately lowered her gaze, not because staring at the King wasn’t allowed but because the cold look in his eyes hit worse than Philippa’s bolts.

“Sylvia? What could she possibly help you with?” Philippa asked, not trying to hide the annoyance and the shock in her voice.

“That’s my business, Eilhart” the King responded, and the sorceress went quiet. Even she knew that Radovid was old enough not to be scolded in public. The days she would treat the King like a naughty child were not long ago but were surely gone.

“Very well” she replied. “I will send her to wash and change out of her practice clothes before she comes to you.”

“I don’t wish to marry her, Madame Eilhart, I just wish to talk to her. Her current appearance will have to suffice.”

Philippa stayed quiet. Sylvia looked at her with confusion in her eyes and a little bit of fear. She would surely get scolded for that later, as Philippa wanted them to fear nothing and if they do, hide it well.

“Very well Your Majesty. Sylvia, don’t be late for the evening class.”

Within seconds Philippa had turned around to walk away and Cynthia was following her. Others in the courtyard went back to their chores to avoid the King’s wrath and Radovid’s guards seemed uninterested in anything other than immediate dangers. The light-brown haired sorceress had nowhere to escape the King’s gaze. She felt even more conscious of her dusty practice clothes.

“Follow me” Radovid ordered and turned around to walk away, without waiting for Sylvia to catch up. The sorceress took big steps, but the King had also started to walk, meaning that she was walking a big step behind him.

The King was tall for his age. He wasn’t too built but practicing regularly and being well-fed had left visible effects on his body. He had stubble and his brown hair had faint waves. Sylvia felt thankful that she was unable to see his eyes because his signature gaze made everyone around him feel like they were being impaled.

With quick steps, Radovid left the courtyard and paced through the barracks. It didn’t seem like he had an intention to acknowledge the girl following him or slowing down for her. It was getting harder to keep up with him after an intensive practice that had ended with her face on the dirt, but Sylvia did her best.

He stopped near Queen-Mother Hedwig’s greenhouse. “Wait here” he told the four guards that were tailing him and opened the glass door himself. For a few seconds, Sylvia waited there but then she panicked and entered the greenhouse. One of the guards closed the door behind her and she found herself in a large glass structure that was filled with plants and flowers from the tiles to the ceiling, leaving almost no space. She recognized most of the herbs from her alchemy classes in Aretuza but the flowers were unknown to her. Looking at how bright the colors were, she assumed those were exotic and not from the cold tundra of Redania.

Radovid walked until they reached 5 large flowerpots, containing colorful roses. When he stopped walking and turned around, Sylvia almost gasped, regretting that she had sped up to catch up with him. Now they were too close.

“Zerrikanian roses. Have you ever seen them before?”

“No, Your Majesty” the sorceress replied, resting her eyes on the roses and welcoming them as a distraction from eye contact.

“Apparently they were my father’s favorite. So, my mother still keeps them. After all these years. Do you think it is foolish to be so stuck in the past, Sorceress?”

Sylvia gulped. A wrong answer meant trouble but an ingenuine reply could be easily dangerous. Radovid’s father, King Vizimir, was assassinated when the Prince was 12, making him the new King. Yet, until very recently, Radovid held no real power. Queen-Mother Hedwig and Philippa Eilhart ruled effectively with the Secret Service. But now that he was coming to age, Sylvia thought that was surely to change. His teachers often talked about Radovid being a brilliant young man and an exceptional strategist. Even Philippa had complimented him on that, though noting that his paranoia might be bigger than even hers.

“I’m sure Queen Hedwig had made a wise decision regarding this greenhouse” Sylvia said rather automatically, though felt guilty about the ingenuity of the reply right after. She’d been in the Tretogor palace for over a year now, but the palace-talk still disturbed her. So she couldn’t help herself and added: “I think these are beautiful. I’ve never seen anything quite like them. I’m sorry about your father, Your Majesty. He seems to have excellent taste in flowers.”

“ _Had_ ” Radovid fixed. “Not _have_. He is quite deceased after all. I doubt much is left of his body.”

Sylvia stayed quiet.

“What is your name, Sorceress?”

“Sylvia, Your Majesty. Sylvia of Oxenfurt.”

“Oxenfurt…” The King repeated. “So, you are actually from Redania. It is hard to know with your kind. Are you from a family I might know of?”

“I doubt that. I’ve never met my father. My mother was a washerwoman. We had a one-room cottage outside the city.”

Radovid gave a dry chuckle. “How did you make your way to Aretuza then? I doubt sorceresses stepped outside their jeweled carriages to talk to washerwomen.”

Sylvia felt her throat getting dry. “In a moment of distress, I cast a spell. I didn’t know how to, it just happened. Madame Laux-Antille was by chance visiting a scholar friend in the Oxenfurt Academy. She felt the magic and came to investigate.”

“Then what? She simply took you away? Who paid for the tuition? Not your washerwoman mother, I assume.”

“No, Your Majesty. Aretuza has a tradition to take in girls who could cast spells without training. Though the number dwindled over years. Now it is more…”

“Elite?”

“I assume so. I had plenty of classmates whose parents were prominent servants of Redania, even members of your court.”

Addressing the King directly like that wasn’t allowed but Sylvia still wasn’t accustomed to palace etiquette. Radovid looked unbothered by that. He stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, then moved his slender fingers on the roses and stopped on top of a thorn. Sylvia wondered if he was actually enjoying the pain or was just testing if the thorn was actually sharp.

“What about your mother?”

“What about her, Your Majesty?”

“Did she simply hand you to the sorceress?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it simply. I remember she required some convincing. Madame Laux-Antille assured her that Aretuza would give me a better future than she could. And she was… compensated for her losses.”

“Losses?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I helped her with the washing.”

Radovid laughed dryly. “And now you’re in the palace.”

Sylvia stayed quiet. It had been two decades since Margarita Laux-Antille, the now-headmistress of Aretuza had taken her from her mother. Sylvia didn’t recall her mother being too affectionate, but she remembered clearly the nights she’d spent crying within the cold walls of the tower.

“I have heard you are accustomed to the Queen of Cintra.”

“Ciri?” Sylvia asked but immediately regretted calling the ashen haired girl that. Now there was no way she could deny knowing her.

“Yes, Cirilla. Granddaughter of Calanthe, fiancée of Emhyr var Emreis. I was told that you know her.”

His words took Sylvia off guard for a second. Often she forgot that the Emperor Emhyr var Emreis of Nilfgaard was engaged to a girl that was introduced to the world as Ciri, while the real Ciri was off in another dimension. Sylvia wouldn’t talk about that of course, both because that’s what Philippa wanted and because Sylvia believed that was safer for Ciri.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I met Cirilla when she was a child.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“She was traveling with her guardian, a witcher named Geralt. My mistress back then, Madame Yennefer of Vengerberg, she wanted me to meet them on the road. I briefly accompanied them during their travel and later I saw her during the last chapter meeting on Thanedd.”

That was the truth. But such a small portion of it.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg… I know of her. She died 3 months ago, along with the Witcher, right? I have also heard of the disaster on Thanedd. Leave a bunch of magic wielders alone and I don’t know what else could be expected.”

Sylvia stayed quiet. Every memory his words brought was hurting her.

“What do you feel about Cirilla’s marriage to Emhyr?”

Sylvia felt that if she lied, Radovid could tell with that piercing glance of his. Best she could do was offering him sections of the truth.

“I doubt such marriage would make her happy.” She replied. “Cirilla is…”

“Beautiful?”

“For sure. But I more meant her personality. She is unruly, stubborn, aggressive, and addicted to her freedom.” She responded, not realizing that the tips of her lips had curved into a soft smile. “I believe she would rather join a circus that become the Empress of Nilfgaard.”

“I see.” Radovid pulled his hand away from the roses. “Sadly, she is the heiress to one of the most important pieces of land on the continent, as well as being the granddaughter of Lioness of Cintra.”

Once again, Sylvia stayed quiet and looked down.

“My spies in the Nilfgaardian court are telling me that many nobles want to depose Emhry.” The King added, looking unbothered. Sylvia wondered why he was telling her such a thing, as well as feeling shocked that the Emperor of Nilfgaard actually had to worry about his subjects. “But more importantly, apparently there are talks that… that the Emperor’s fiancée is not the real Cirilla. That she is just a fake.”

Sylvia’s eyes opened widely. Had the most guarded secret of the Empire gotten discovered?

“When is the last time you saw Cirilla, Sylvia?”

“The chapter meeting on Thanedd.” Sylvia lied. She had seen Cirilla after Yennefer had brought her to the Lodge.

This time, it was Radovid’s turn to stay quiet. The King placed his hand on his chin and watched the intricate details of the marble flower pots but Sylvia could swear that his brain was working overtime.

“And what are your opinions of Philippa?”

Sylvia was taken aback. “Madame Eilhart? She saved my life. And she took me in as her apprentice.”

“Sure. That is not what I’m asking though.”

Sylvia gulped. It was hard to speak good of Philippa. She was thankful for everything, but it didn’t change the fact that the woman was cruel. “She is… hardworking.” 

“Most people in this palace are. But that’s not her defining feature, is it?”

“She is ambitious” Sylvia let the words escape her mouth. “And she is quite intelligent and observant.”

“I think she is quite the bitch.” Radovid replied. A burst of laughter escaped Sylvia’s mouth but then she gasped at her own lack of control and covered her mouth with her hands.

Damn it.

“And I see that you agree.” Radovid said with a playful tone and Sylvia could swear that she saw a smile appear on his lips, though only for a second. “Anyway… I expect we will have more conversations in future about your past, Sylvia of Oxenfurt. For now, you may leave.”

For a few seconds Sylvia stood there frozen, almost as if she wasn’t dying to get away from the King just a second ago.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, noticing her hesitancy.

“It’s just that… I’m sorry, Your Highness. I just thought that you would ask me to keep the contents of this conversation private.”

This time, Radovid actually laughed. But there was no joy in his laughter. “I have learned that nothing in this palace stays private, especially when they are about me. Now go. I wish to be alone.”

* * *

“So, what did he ask you?” Philippa inquired the moment Sylvia had entered the common area between hers and Cynthia’s chambers.

“She asked me about Ciri.”

Philippa raised an eyebrow. “What could he possibly wonder about Cirilla?”

“He asked me if it was true that I’d met her. And he asked me what I thought about her marriage to Emhyr var Emreis.”

Cynthia stiffened. Philippa grimaced.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That Ciri was a free-soul and would not enjoy the palace life.”

“Was that all? You’ve been gone a while, that can’t be the entirety of the conversation.”

“It was.” Sylvia lied. That night and next many to come, she would ask herself why she’d lied to Philippa to keep Radovid’s words private, especially even when the King himself hadn’t asked her to do so. “Well, most of the time I was there he just stood and looked at things.”

“Ah yes, that sounds like the brooding man-child he is.” Philippa rolled her eyes. “Anyways. Immediately come to me if he tells you anything else. And clean up, I don’t want to see you looking like a street urchin during the dinner.”

Sylvia stayed quiet as the sorceress left and a servant filled her wooden tub with jugs of hot water to bathe in. She and Cynthia got inside the tub together.

“So…”

“So, what, Cynthia?”

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” she giggled.

“If you’re looking yourself a monarch to have an affair with, I’d recommend one who doesn’t hate your guts for being a sorceress” Sylvia replied with a dry voice, sliding down to let her curls soak.

“Don’t tell me you don’t find him good looking.”

“He is the King of Redania.”

“And a man.”

“There are easier ways to get in trouble.”

“You’re no fun!” the blonde-haired sorceress giggled.

Sylvia didn’t reply. Her mind was still busy with Radovid’s words about Ciri but also with the almost-ominous smirk he had given to her.


	3. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvia remembers the physical modifications she went through in Aretuza upon Yennefer's request. Philippa receives unfortunate news at Radovid's coronation ball. The King has a near-death experience that makes him rethink his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Fantasy-style violence, graphic descriptions of physical harm.

When a King died in Redania, traditionally his oldest son became the new king. However, the transition wasn’t always smooth. When there were no sons alive, the throne would be left to a grandson and if that was also absent, the eldest daughter. Such governments often faced opposition and rebellions, citing the common belief that women were unfit to rule. And in the case that the late-king did have a son but the son was not of age yet, a regency council would be formed from the late king's trusted advisors and his consort, if she was alive. The council would rule in the young king’s name until he would come of age, traditionally his 15th or 16th birthday, then there would be an official coronation.

That was the case for Radovid V of Redania, however, he was already about to turn 17. Even though his teachers and caretakers had stated time and time that the young King was extremely intelligent and mature, the regency council led by Queen-Mother Hedwig and sorceress Philippa Eilhart had blocked Radovid from ascending properly. But now, two of them no longer had an excuse to delay the coronation and the subsequent ball that was expected to draw a significant crowd of nobles to the capital city of Tretogor.

The entire week leading to the coronation day, Philippa’s mood was horrendous. She often scolded servants and her apprentices alike, openly talking about her mistrust in the young King’s ability to rule. Her apprentice Sylvia wondered if Philippa would ever face any sort of consequences for her actions and thought but the centuries-old sorceress clearly took all her steps carefully. Sylvia found her cruel and cunning but denying that she was intelligent and charismatic would be a lethal mistake. Besides, she tried not to think about politics and Philippa’s involvement in it. After all, she had not only saved Sylvia’s life but also had offered her a new life in the palace.

Needless to say, neither Sylvia nor her fellow apprentice Cynthia was invited to the coronation ceremony that took place in the royal cathedral but both of them could hear the bells from the window they were sitting near. Cynthia was leaning down slightly, letting the wind brush her blonde strands. She was beautiful. Though as it was customary for sorceresses to be so, it was impossible to know how much of the beauty was granted to her at birth and how much of it was enchantment. Unlike Sylvia’s unnatural bright-gold eyes, Cynthia’s body showed no symptoms of magical corruption.

At birth, Gods had given Sylvia a pair of blue eyes that her mother often complimented. However, the Gods had also given her a slender body like an elf’s, and that was a quality that was not appreciated at all in Aretuza, where young girls were turned into sorceresses both mentally and physically. Sylvia was brought to the magical sculptor short before she would turn 17, upon the request of Yennefer of Vengerberg, who was liked and disliked at Aretuza at the same time.

“The reason why we do this is because a sorceress is ought to be well equipped.” Yennefer had told Sylvia and three other pupils who were brought to the sculptor’s den. “You must be able to enchant without casting spells, to protect yourselves and your interests. Men are weak, yet they are in power. Sorceresses disrupt that unfortunate fact by being almost otherworldly with their perfection. Don’t think of these alterations as simple modifications. You have all proved to be adept with magic, which makes the sculptor’s work your given-right.”

Right after those words of Yennefer, the sculptor had hit all of them with the magical knife and worked until long after all four of the girls had passed out. Sylvia woke up the next day at noon on her bed, in pain and with fever, though also with perfectly shaped small but perky breasts and curvier hips. When she made her way to the basin with great difficulty and saw her new gold-colored eyes on the dusty mirror, a scream ascended her throat but all the voice that got out was a sob.

Thus, the idea that Cynthia might have been born the way she was caused a little bit of jealousy, but Sylvia fought that feeling well. She’d met her fellow apprentice the day she’d woken up in Tretogor and two of them have been inseparable since then.

“Cynthia, get away from the window. The wind will ruin your hair and we will have to explain that to Madame Eilhart.”

Both sorceresses were wearing matching gowns. The skirts were made up of thick Zerrikanian fabric with rich colors. The base color was red, and it was decorated with gold-colored lace to imitate the Redanian flag. The tops were black velvet, featuring portrait backs with intricate details and cleavage that was supported by incredibly tight corsets Philippa had insisted on. The elder sorceress was wearing a gown that was identical on base but had expensive intricate details and small jewels embedded all over the dress.

“The breeze is nice. Besides, I want to look at the cathedral. Maybe I’ll see something.”

“You won’t see anything.” Sylvia objected. “It’s too far.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes but listened to the sorceress with light-brown curls. Just an hour ago she’d had the “honor” of trying to put up Sylvia’s hair in a bun and needless to say, she wasn’t thrilled about that.

Two of them sat on the stools near the dining table in Cynthia’s room but did not touch the snacks on the table. Philippa had instructed them strictly that they weren’t to eat anything after the corsets were put on. Sylvia was hungry but had no intention to break the rule, as she was sure her breasts would burst out of the corset if she had a nibble of anything.

Soon enough, the bell of the Cathedral of Melitele rang 15 times, announcing that a new king was crowned. Sylvia wondered how different life would be for Philippa now, knowing from the brief interaction she’d had with him that Radovid was no pushover.

“Honorable Lords and Ladies, I present you, Radovid V, the King of Redania!”

Upon the cry of the castellan, the crowd in the palace gardens cheered and fireworks went off at the same time. Sylvia felt her breathing getting heavier and faster, causing her breasts to push the corset and hurt themselves. As discreetly as possible Cynthia placed her hand on Sylvia’s to calm her. She was aware that her fellow apprentice disliked fireworks since the explosions on Thanedd.

Radovid entered the garden with a face that looked like he was attending a funeral rather than his coronation celebration. Queen-Mother Hedwig followed him wearing a gown of a style that was mostly preferred by young maidens. _As if that could hide those hideous wrinkles_ , Philippa said to Sylvia and Cynthia telepathically and both sorceresses had to bite their lips not to laugh.

Three of them were walking right behind Hedwig, which once again showed how powerful Philippa was. Sylvia could feel the joy Philippa took from that but she herself would rather stay away from the King. A small army of aristocrats and ministers followed them. Discreetly, Sylvia reached out to them to read their thoughts, which was something Philippa had told her not to do as it often alerted the target. Before she would complete her concentration for the spell, she could feel the disdain targeted at Philippa. Feeling uneasy, she pulled her magic back and focused on breathing properly in the corset.

As the King climbed up the stairs to give his speech, Philippa and Hedwig took his side. Sylvia and Cynthia stayed back.

“Thank you, my Lords and my Ladies, for joining me tonight” Radovid said, not bothering to get loud. After all, it was up to the crowd to hear the historical words of the King. They immediately went silent and Sylvia could swear that she saw yet another smirk on the King’s lips, which lasted less than a second.

“Today marks an important date for me and for Redania. Since my father was murdered, this kingdom has gotten lazy. We have been stalled. But fear not, from this day and forward, Redania will regain its place as the Pearl of the North. That is our historical and divine right!”

If the crowd hadn’t gotten silent, they would now. It was extremely unusual for a newly crowned King to accuse his regency council of being lazy, especially considering his own mother and guardian were part of it. Though Sylvia supposed it was precisely because of that.

“Tomorrow is a new day and a day like no other. Even though it breaks my heart to say goodbye, tomorrow I shall do so since Queen-Mother Hedwig will be leaving for Arcsea to visit the hot springs there. My only solace is that our beloved sorceress Lady Eilhart has selflessly offered to accompany her.”

Centuries of self-control failed Philippa and she stared at the King with an open mouth, shock visible on her eyes. With that, not just Sylvia but most of the crowd understood that it was the first time that Philippa was hearing of this plan which seemed to be specifically made to get her and the Queen-Mother away from the palace.

Sylvia was scared to reach out to Philippa telepathically. So, she didn’t.

“So tonight, drink, eat, dance, and make merry. That is my first order as your King. Tomorrow, a new day will dawn.”

Radovid raised his goblet after finishing his words and the musicians started to play again. Cheers rose from the crowd, though the visible confusion remained. Radovid lowered his goblet without taking a sip and Sylvia once again saw the ominous smirk on his lips.

“I better go check on Philippa, I expect she will want to leave.” Cynthia said to Sylvia and the brown-haired sorceress felt startled by the familiarity in Cynthia’s tone. They had called their mistress Madame Eilhart or Lady Eilhart but never with her first name.

“Okay, I will come with you.”

“No.” Cynthia rejected rather firmly. “Someone should watch the King.”

“Well, clearly he doesn’t want to be watched.”

“It doesn’t matter. Someone needs to keep track in case he says something equally lunatic.”

“Cynthia! Someone will hear.”

“I’m sure they’d agree if they did.” The blonde sorceress replied and got lost in the crowd, appearing near Philippa short after. Two of them started to talk and Sylvia saw Cynthia placing her arm around Philippa’s back and escorting her outside the gardens.

Sylvia wasn’t sure what to do. She was surrounded by Redanian nobility in their best clothes and most were in the process of getting drunk or already there. There were bards, painters, fire eaters, countless servers, and half-naked women in masks. No expense was spared, yet the King himself didn’t seem to be partaking in any of the activities.

From a distance, Sylvia forced herself to watch Radovid but looking at the King made her feel uneasy. His brown hair was combed neatly, and his stubble was shaved off. His breeches and tunic were a perfect symbiosis of black, red, and gold. He was wearing an eagle-shaped brooch on his chest. The same symbol also appeared on his crown, which looked the perfect size for his head. Sylvia wondered if Kings got their crows altered to fit them.

For some time, she positioned herself at a corner and watched the King. Countless nobles came to him, quite a few of them introducing their daughters to him. Sylvia supposed it was expectable, now that the King was old enough. Yet, Radovid seemed rather uninterested in women, nobles, or the party. He had made his intentions as the King very clear in his short speech: _From this day and forward, Redania will regain its place as the Pearl of the North._

“My lady?”

Sylvia was startled but when she saw who was it that interrupted her thoughts, she had a soft smile. “Jan. You startled me.”

Jan was a royal guard in his twenties, which was surprisingly young for the position. He had baby blue eyes and blonde hair, as well as a face that made him look even younger than he was. Sylvia found his company pleasant, even though she had interacted with him rather briefly during the last couple of months when he guarded the sorceresses’ door.

“I’m sorry my lady, I didn’t mean to.”

“No need to call me a lady, Jan. I am not.”

Now it was Jan’s turn to be confused. “Then what shall I call you?”

“Sylvia is enough.”

Jan stayed quiet. It was extremely unusual to call anyone of importance with their first name in the palace. “Very well my-… Sylvia. I’m sorry, that is just strange. Please allow me to simply stick to calling you, _my lady_.”

Sylvia giggled. “So be it. Is something wrong, Jan?”

“Not quite. His Majesty requested the presence of Lady Eilhart. I’m afraid I couldn’t locate her in the crowd. I was hoping you could direct me to her whereabouts.”

She bit her lip and Jan immediately noticed that. The sorceress forced a smile. “Madame Eilhart wasn’t feeling well. Cynthia escorted her to her chambers. I’m afraid she won’t be able to see the King.”

“My lady… Are you asking me to tell the King his subject won’t be answering his summons?”

Sylvia bit her lip again. Jan was right. A smart young man he was. “No. That wouldn’t be a good idea, would it?”

“No, my lady.”

Sylvia sighed. She didn’t have many options. If she sent back Jan with a negative response, she risked angering the King, which could be dangerous for not only Jan but for Philippa and Cynthia as well. But if she sent Jan to Philippa’s chambers, the result wouldn’t be much different. She knew Philippa well enough to guess that she would not be answering the King’s summons, just out of spite if nothing.

“I will tell the King myself.” She concluded with a sigh.

“Your Majesty.”

“There must be a mistake.” Radovid looked at Sylvia from the portable throne he was sitting on. His voice was annoyed but his eyes had an entertained curiosity in them. “I asked for Eilhart, not for her servants.”

The sorceress for sure would prefer keeping her head down but her instincts stopped her from doing that. Doing her best to ignore the sour feeling in her stomach, she looked Radovid in the eye, though she was sure the corset was giving away her heavy breaths.

“Madame Eilhart was feeling unwell. My fellow apprentice Cynthia escorted her to her chambers. But I would be happy to relay a message if you’d like.”

Radovid stayed quiet. His fingers fiddled on the gemstones that were embedded on the small throne. Sylvia waited for him to say something, but the reply never came. So, the sorceress grew even more anxious.

Almost a full minute later, the King broke the silence. “Follow me.”

He stood up with the dexterity of a young fox and Sylvia once again found herself following the young king a step behind. A few of the party guests had attempted to follow them to lick the King’s boots but the guards quickly stopped them.

Nervously, Sylvia tried to keep her breathing regularly in order not to put too much pressure on the corsets. The restrictive piece of clothing had fit Cynthia’s body like a glove but for the curly-haired sorceress, it was torture. As Radovid walked through the second segment of the royal garden with fast steps, Sylvia internally swore at Philippa for dressing her like this.

Radovid stopped at the entrance of the hedge maze. “Catch up, sorceress. I don’t have all night.”

Her face getting red from both stress and lack of oxygen, Sylvia fastened her steps and followed the King inside the maze. She knew the maze wasn’t somewhere one could get lost inside but the hedges were much taller than she thought, reaching 7 feet at places.

“Do you know what one must do if they find themselves in a labyrinth, sorceress?”

So, he had forgotten her name. That was okay. If not better. “You place your hand on the left wall and keep moving without pulling your hand back.”

“That’s correct.” The King replied with a grin and placed his left hand on the hedge. Sylvia thought that even if he wasn’t a lunatic like Philippa claimed, he was certainly a troubled young man to be thinking these at his coronation party. “You find one stable thing that will not move. That will not change. And you use it to advance.”

Sylvia stayed quiet.

“Because your path may drag you through tunnels, trying to get you lost. But a smart man knows what to rely on. And more importantly, what not to rely on.”

Was he even getting anywhere?

“That’s no different for a King. A ruler must find something to base his strategy on, even amidst the madness.”

Ah yes, there was madness for sure.

Radovid pulled his hand back from the hedge as if it was made of fire and turned towards Sylvia, causing the girl to get startled.

“Tell me how you met Eilhart.”

The question wasn’t surprising, but Sylvia thought he knew the story already. “She found me lying near-dead on the ground when the attack on Thanedd happened. She brought me here to heal, then kept me as her apprentice.”

“That cannot be your first interaction with her?”

Sylvia thought. “I guess not, Your Grace. However, it may as well be. Madame Eilhart was never quite interested in Aretuza so I only stumbled upon her once before Thanedd.”

“That being?”

“She came to Aretuza to talk to one Madame Laux-Antille.”

“About what?”

“I am not sure, Your Grace. I was just a student back then. I only served Madame Eilhart at the bathhouse.”

“What was your impression of Philippa?”

Sylvia thought about that. She remembered Philippa being awful but that was not unusual for senior sorceresses.

“I thought she was somewhat scary.” Sylvia admitted. There was something in Radovid’s firm voice and piercing gaze that coerced her into telling the truth. If he were to ask more questions, especially about Ciri, Sylvia thought it could become a problem.

“She would tell me stories of ghouls and wraiths that kidnapped young princes when I was a kid.” Radovid said, a hazy look appearing in his eyes. Sylvia wasn’t surprised to hear Philippa having done that, but it was rather strange hearing Radovid talk about his past, like a normal man.

But Sylvia wasn’t stupid. By then, she could tell that the King wanted something from her.

“Madame Eilhart… knows a lot of stories and myths.” She tried to come up with an answer.

“Well, she can learn even more in Arcsea.”

The sorceress bit her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Your Grace. It’s just that… Madame Eilhart hadn’t told us that she would be leaving.”

“Naturally. She learned that tonight herself. Enough with Eilhart though. Tell me about the infamous White Wolf.”

“Geralt?” Sylvia was surprised once again. “I don’t know him too well. He was uhm… close with Madame Yennefer.”

“Yennefer… Yes, I hear her name quite often. How common is it for a sorceress to be intimate with a witcher, Sylvia?”

So, he remembered her name.

“Unheard of, Your Grace.” She replied. “I believe their… relationship went back a long time.”

“You look sad.”

“I am. Madame Yennefer was incredibly smart and had a loving side once you got to know her. And the Witcher was quiet and grumpy, yet he was nice in his own way.” She smiled a bit. “I met Madame Yennefer when I was in Aretuza. The alumni can return to Aretuza and barrow an apprentice for their projects, given that the headmistress allows.”

“And she borrowed you.”

“A couple of times, yes. I helped her enchant some herbs in the laboratory. And after that-…”

Sylvia’s response was cut short when she felt a tingling sensation all over her body. The buzz traveled from her head to her toes, paralyzing every muscle. Her body gave up rather easily and combined with the way the corset stopped her from breathing, she collapsed.

Radovid gasped. Something she thought he’d never do.

Once her face hit the grass that was wet from dew, she felt something warm on her head. She placed her fingers on her forehead and the sticky blood welcomed her immediately. After that she spotted the bead on the ground, which was red with her blood. She instantly felt the magic coming from the object.

Radovid’s vision was even scarier. Rather out of the blue, a man had appeared behind the hedges. It was hard to see anything about him since he was wearing a dark tunic over his dark breeches, as well as having covered his head and his face with some sort of turban also colored dark. The only distinguishing feature was his naked arms, which were big and veiny with large muscles. Right after appearing he had said a small incantation toward his hand and threw the bead at Sylvia, causing her to collapse on impact.

But she was still conscious. Every inch of her body ached and coerced her into closing her eyes and falling asleep, but she fought it. The feeling was too similar to what she’d felt on Thanedd, lying on the concrete and feeling unable to move. She despised that.

With a rather loud groan, she stood up. The first thing she saw was the man approaching Radovid with an elven dagger in his hand.

An assassin on the King’s coronation day? Bold move, though the message would be extra effective.

As much as the cursed dress allowed, Sylvia lunged forward. Without thinking much, she decreased the distance between herself and the assassin, casting a rather easy spell at him. As she finished the incantation, a small ball of wind left her fingers and hit the assassin on the back. The man didn’t fall but momentarily lost his balance, which alerted him of Sylvia’s existence but also gave the King the chance to dodge.

Radovid took the chance without thinking. His instincts were as sharp as his calm mind. He considered yelling for the guards but remembered quickly that he had ordered them to not follow two of them. He hadn’t wanted anyone to hear the conversation and now he could pay for the paranoia with his life.

Watching the King dodge and attempting to put some distance between himself and the assassin, Sylvia felt impressed and relaxed. Philippa trained her apprentices every day for various dangers, but it was different actually facing one. A King frozen with fear would only make her job harder.

Unfortunately, the assassin was faster than both of them. He opened his palm towards Sylvia and the sorceress saw a ball of fire growing, giving her only a few seconds to react. She opted for casting a protective ward Philippa had taught her, however it wasn’t strong enough. She wasn’t burnt but the speed of the fireball pushed her back for meters and she only stopped when her back hit the hedge and the thorns of the bushes pierced through her dress.

Right after that, the assassin turned back to Radovid, who had grabbed a medium-sized flowerpot as a weapon. The King jumped on a stone bench nearby to attempt escaping but the hedges were simply too high. Regardless, he successfully dodged 3 consecutive dagger attacks, which gave Sylvia enough time to get herself out of the hedges.

The assassin noticed the movement behind him immediately. He raised his palm once again and Sylvia felt a choking feeling on her throat. At the same time, he kept pushing Radovid towards a corner with his dagger.

The grip on Sylvia’s throat tightened and the sorceress felt tears coming down from her cheeks. There was no way two of them were beating this man.

With that knowledge, Sylvia’s survival instincts took over. On Thanedd, she had collapsed with the knowledge that she’d die, and she’d spent minutes lying in a puddle of her own blood, thinking about death and how cold it felt. The trauma was still too fresh, and she would do anything to prevent that from happening again.

With a loud groan, she cast another protective spell, which stopped the choking but there was still a significant difference between her and the assassin. Swearing at Philippa because of the dress she lunged forward, which caused the assassin to turn towards her. Radovid once again took advantage of the distraction and threw himself on the ground, rolling away from the assailant. Stopping the man’s dagger attack with a minor ward that took too long to cast, Sylvia won them only a few more seconds. Then she extended her hand to the King and he took it to stand up.

Once they were finally on the same side against the assassin and holding hands, Sylvia decided to do the only thing she knew that would save them. She let Radovid’s hand go, turned away, and used all her remaining energy to open a portal.

Under so much stress, she couldn’t even think of a place. _Safety. Quiet. Far_., she thought.

A large circle of orange and black lights appeared in front of them and Sylvia almost collapsed with the sudden drain of energy. Holding herself at the last minute, she grabbed the King’s hand.

“We need to go.”

“What? Are you crazy!?”

“No, but he is!”

“That’s ridiculous. We need to run!”

Noticing that the assailant was seconds away, Sylvia panicked. Trying to convince the King was a waste of time so she wrapped her arm around his waist then jumped inside the portal.

A beam of energy surrounded them and Sylvia wondered if she’d done a lethal mistake.


End file.
